


The Spirit Fades, In Darkness Lying

by Allronix



Category: Green Sky Trilogy - Zilpha Keatley Snyder
Genre: Canon - Video Game, F/M, Fantastic Racism, Gen, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-01-24 22:55:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21346123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allronix/pseuds/Allronix
Summary: Raamo is seemingly dead and the The Rejoyning is now in tatters. Violence, a once-forgotten concept, is now threatening to break out anew.  In this time of despair, D'ol Falla's vision may point the way to healing, but it threatens the lives of the five Rejoyners who volunteer to investigate the meaning of her vision. Bridges the gap between Until the Celebration and opens where the Commodore 64 game begins.
Relationships: Herd/Kanna, Neric/Genaa
Comments: 8
Kudos: 7
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	1. The Vision

**Author's Note:**

  * For [queenbookwench](https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenbookwench/gifts).

In the Vine Palace, all windows had been covered with white silks, the sign of a house in mourning, as were most other buildings in Green-Sky. The Broad Grund and Sky Grund shops refused to do so, as did citizens whose feelings about the Rejoyning were ambivalent at best.

The excitement and Joy that swept Green-Sky after the discovery of the Erdling exiles, and the initial outpouring of compassion and goodwill, had given way to confusion and malaise. Many Kindar resented the upheaval to their social order, confused by their more passionate and expressive Erdling neighbors. There were just as many Erdlings who resented their suffering and confinement under the Root and blamed all Kindar for their complacency. Some talked about separation. Others, the followers of Salaat and Befal, called for “defending” themselves and their people against the other. Rejoyning was seen as an empty promise, and perhaps Neshom’s promise of a world without violence was just as empty. The voices calling for unity and peace were weakened while those calling for hatred and separation grew stronger. The Holy Children had been too young and unsuited for the role. Raamo, the chief voice and implementor for the Rejoyning, had drowned in the Bottomless Lake, and no one had been able to take his place.

_We should all become the Zhaan, the one people of Green-Sky_. Yes, she said it. Yes, she believed in it still. And yet, D’ol Falla knew her own role in its division and a lifetime of untruth. High Priestess of the Vine…jailer of those who asked too many questions or saw what they shouldn’t. How many had she sent to death through a cup of honeyed wine and darkness below? She knew that not all the Kindar she exiled lived to find shelter with the Erdlings. Some never awoke from the poison. Others must have fallen in the caverns or perished from hunger and thirst before they could be cared for. She should have carried that Tool. She should have been the one who cast herself into the lake, not a youth too overwhelmed by the destiny she crafted for him.

She was truly the heir to Wissen, the last murderer, wasn’t she?

Sleep would not come, so by the light of the Spirit Lamp, she sat in the Forbidden Chamber, surrounded by artifacts of the ancients. There were metal tools far more advanced than Erdling craftspeople had been able to replicate, books full of dangerous history documenting endless cruelties, a handheld device that had once been a “computer unit,” replicas of violence tools that had been used to indoctrinate children to attack others…

With a deep sigh, D’Ol Falla shook her head and stared into the lamp, hoping for answers or peace. After many hours of meditation, the vision seized her

** _The Spirit fades, in Darkness Lying…_ **

_A light in the cold and dark, shivering and delirious from pain and fever, stumbled blindly through the caverns. Rough stone beneath the seeker’s fingers, damp on the walls, the sound of breathing echoed into nothingness. _

_Strangely, the rough surface of stone gave way to something smoother, colder. Brushing against a cool, flat surface, the very walls and floor seemed to hum with life. Dim light, no brighter than a honeylamp filled the room. _

_What looked like a row of very strange nids occupied the far wall of the room. Exhausted and dizzy, the seeker all but crawled over to the closest one, climbing in. The last thing remembered was the top of it, clear like enchanted water, closing over the chamber. _

_What the seeker could not see was the panel above the row of pod-like chambers. _

_STASIS UNITS ONLINE _

_LEISTUNG: MINIMAL_

_LIEBENSUNTERSTÜTZUNG: ONLINE_

_The strange nids would shelter for now, but the lights were dim. They would fade soon, and the weary one with it…_

** _The Light is Dying._ **

Stumbling out of the chamber, and out to the branchpaths outside, she gripped a branch railing, gulping fresh air to try and calm her racing heart and spinning head.

“Priestess?” It was Atria, one of the adjuncts sent to help her with administrative duties. 

“Find the Rejoyners; Neric, Genaa, Ambassadors Herd and Kanna, Pomma and Teera as well. Send out word to all messengers; they must come to the Vine Palace at once.”

“Why? What is –“ Atria’s eyes were wide with fear.

“I had a vision, Atria. A room…a light…” She shook her head, gathering enough strength to stand with the aid of her staff. “I remember only these words. _‘The Spirit fades, in Darkness lying. The Light is dying.’_”


	2. A Hundred Small Cuts

**Chapter 2**

  
  


The House of Healing on Broad Grund was small, barely bigger than a Grundmaster’s nid-place. Often it only attended to those made infirm by age or perhaps a Berry-wasted adult, along with the odd injury caused by a rough landing or shuba mishap; reasonably common in Erdling adults due to lack of experience with shuba wearing.

The Healers’ current patient, however, was none of those things.

“She was found just outside the Garden, on one of the higher branches. Probably looking for beaks or vines to weave ropes,” Kanna said. “The other children heard her scream, but by the time they found her…”

Herd ran a hand through his hair and paced the small floor like a caged cave-cat. “No sign of who could have done this? Who would have…? Teera isn’t yet ten years of age!”

His raised voice caused two Kindar who were also in the room to look up at him and quickly mind-block, but not before Herd pensed their unsettled state. Kindar were more muted in their expressions, even grave ones like sorrow and mind-pain. Their voices, as sharp and crisp as they tended to be, rarely increased in volume past conversational tone. Despite the mind-block, he could see it in their faces. _Erdling. Loud and uncontrolled like the Pash-San he is under human skin._

“Judging from the torn branches and vines, there was more than one attacker; adults. And they found…” Kanna’s voice hitched, and Herd once again found himself under the eyes of the Kindar in the room. “They found two broken trencher beaks. Her attackers used those. They cut her shuba so she couldn’t jump and glide away.”

Herd sat heavily on the woven bench next to Kanna and pulled her close as she sobbed onto his shuba. Despite living in the treetops and having a reasonable proficiency with gliding, the garment still wasn’t comfortable to wear; tight in the wrist and ankles by necessity, and prone to catching on furniture. To Kindar, it was second nature to move about with the garment. The discomfort from the shuba and the Kindars’ stares only accentuated the tense situation.

  
  


The healer, a young Erdling man, came out of the hall and approached. “Teera’s parents, yes?”

“Yes.”

“We have stopped the bleeding and bound her wounds with silk. She has been given Berries –“

“A few only, I hope,” Herd said. Kindar, having used the Berry since childhood, had a greater tolerance. Erdlings had no such exposure, so one Berry to them was like three or four to a Kindar.

“Three only,” the healer assured them. “She is resting. She is also young and sturdy, but her injuries were grave. We’ve given her the proper herbs and done as much as we can, but all we can do from here is wait.”

“Let us see her. Please. I...I need to see her.” Herd could barely speak around the tightness in his throat.

The healer sent his compassion and understanding through mind-touch, guiding Herd and Kanna to a small room in the back of the healing house with little more than a honeylamp, a cot, and two chairs of grund-wood and woven vine.

Teera lay on the cot, more bandages than skin showing. Her cut and bloody shuba was uselessly draped on a wissen-vine rack, just out of sight. The skin that did show had terrible bruising and shallow cuts. Herd scowled.

One dark eye opened and her speech was slurred by the Berry’s effect. “Papa?”

“Yes, Little One. I am here. So is your mother.” His brave, sturdy daughter looking like a frail cocooned silkworm on the large cot. It was not right!

“Papa, I could not see them. I heard voices, but it happened so fast. I could not get away. I couldn’t see their faces -” Big, round tears streamed down her face. “Papa, I shouldn’t have wandered off by myself. I’m...”

He took her hand. “It’s all right. Teera, you need to rest, to put your mind and spirit on healing. Your mother and I are here.”

Kanna leaned in. “Charn and Pomma are safe in the hall upstairs. Valdo is coming to pick them up. I’ve kept them informed about how Terra is doing.”

Herd picked up her ruined garment, seeing the smooth slices and red stains crossing the fabric, and forcing himself to mind-block again. He stuffed the ruined garment in a trunk to keep it from view. Something wasn’t adding up.

Another spark and surge of concern from Kanna; mind-blocking was not common in Erdlings, and usually considered a sign of someone being deceitful. Emotions were things to display and be honest about, even the harsh ones. Kindar were the ones taught to keep pain and unpleasant emotions hidden. It could be forgiven to an extent, not to agitate Teera, who was in enough distress. However, mind-blocking from his bond-partner was enough to add to her distress. He mouthed the word “Later,” to her so Teera couldn’t see it.

“Can...Can we sing?” Teera asked weakly. “I am sleepy, but frightened.”

Herd pulled up the bench to take Teera’s hand, Kanna still holding the other between her own. “What would you like to sing, little one?”

It got a smile from her. “The one Raamo taught me. When I was climbing up. It helped me not be afraid.”

Herd couldn’t help a sad smile. Not an Erdling saga, but a Kindar song. There was a Gystig belief that the Spirit remained after someone had died, and that the Spirit would be reborn into a new life. One’s lost brother could be born again as a son, a deceased friend reborn as cavern-kin. Of course, part of the Gystig belief was that the truly virtuous would be reborn to see the skies and trees; and now Erdlings did not have to wait for death for that to happen any longer. Herd put very little stock in mysticism and dreams, choosing the realities of the present over speculation about futures that might not come about. Teera, however, was enough like her grandmother – Kanna’s mother – to concede the Gystig belief might have merit. Kanna’s mother had been a Fallen, not old enough to be proficient with a shuba, but still old enough to have a few clear memories of life at the treetops. She died just prior to Teera’s birth.

Their three voices melded on the song. Herd’s memory slipped on the lyrics, but he was quickly able to rejoin.

_Hand by hand_

_Inch by inch_

_Up the Vine’s strong tendrils_

_Up to tree tops _

_Up to home…_

  
  


A voice cut in “A Kindar song, Herd?”

Herd looked up. In the door was Gando; tall and thin for an Erdling, he had been Herd’s cavern-kin as children, long hours spent playing rock-toss and hunting plak birds. He always looked a bit clumsy and disheveled; thick black hair half over his eyes, hands and feet almost too wide in proportion to the rest of his thin limbs.

“Gando! I’ve not seen you since...” Since the Rejoyning. Since the whirlwind of activity that pulled them from cold and slow starvation under the ground to a new and strange existence in the trees and going from administrative duties among the Erdlings to an even stranger existence as Erdling representatives to the Kindar.

“It has been some time. Your daughter. How is she…?”

“Sleepy...” Teera said in a slurring voice. The Berries were having their effect. Herd steered Gando out of the room so they could talk without waking her, leaving Kanna to hold vigil.

Herd closed the door behind them. Most Kindar buildings only had tapestry curtains to separate areas, but healing houses had doors that could be pulled closed to aid in the patients’ rest.

“She is resting. Badly wounded, but her wounds bound. I heard you were in Upper Erda. How could you -”

“An attack on a child? Word travels like scared birds. It seems the Saltite are getting more bold.”

Herd scowled. Gando was mindblocking, but that was likely due to the gravity of the situation. “Are we certain it was Salaat's cult? Or is that idle speculation?”

“Who else could attack an Erdling child, much less Teera? She and that Kindar girl -”

“Pomma.”

Gando’s mouth twitched. “I noticed _Pomma_ wasn’t attacked by three grown men, bur Teera was. Kindar will protect their own.”

“I doubt it. Pomma and Charn got separated from Teera. Her attackers waited until she was alone. It could have just as easily been Pomma...or Charn...or your boy Alaric. You heard what happened to Wassou?”

Gando sniffed. “He was sending Verban below, to starve us faster. Attacked on a branchpath by Befal’s men, I believe.”

“He lived, but it was a near thing and he has many scars.” Herd pinched the bridge of his nose. “As for his past as an Ol-Zhaan -”

“You are a little too cozy with Kindar, Herd. Maybe a little blindly sympathetic. You see how they look at us. Even the ones whose words and overt acts claim to support the Rejoyning can’t mindblock all of their suspicion and contempt.”

“And a fair amount of our people look at them with resentment and suspicion as well. This is...a hard time for us all. We have to be rational about this or we’ll all burn.”

Valdo’s voice, loud and rough despite the Kindar accent, cut in. “Herd, how is she?” He had Charn under one large arm and Pomma under the other. Valdo D’ok was a bit stockier and studier than most Kindar due to his hard physical work as a harvester, and harvesters were closer to Erdlings in temperament than most Kindar; considered rough and indelicate by their peers.

“Her wounds are bound. She is resting. They gave her Berries.” Herd saw Pomma shift uncomfortably. Berries were a thing that brought back sorrowful memories, as she had nearly Wasted to death from them. To hear the D’oks tell it, Teera saved Pomma’s life by giving her something other than Berry-withdrawal pain to look forward to. As far as Herd saw it, the D’ok family gave Teera kindness and shelter despite potentially dire consequences. Kindar didn’t have the idea of cavern-kin, but they were close enough.

“I’ll see myself out,” Gando said, not bothering to block how annoyed he was with the presence of Kindar. Herd slumped against the wall.

“Friend of yours?” Valdo asked.

“Cavern-kin. Almost a brother, really. Like many of my people, his...” He remembered his manners. Kindar viewed some words differently than Erdlings. “Discomfort with Kindar gets the better of him. I apologize.”

“You aren’t the one being angry, Herd. Why are you sorry?”

“Pomma!” Valdo was a little thrown. “Anger” was a neutral word for Erdlings, but a vulgarity to Kindar. It was almost refreshing to see Pomma being willing to use those kind of words. She and Teera had a tendency to blur the differences of their respective cultures; which probably accounted for their moments of Uniforce and gave him hope that a few generations would turn this terrible separation into just another shared saga and memory.

Charn explained, “We were climbing the upper branches, looking for beaks. They don’t cut as good as metal wands. They leave the edges all jagged, but Kindar use them for cutting and they ‘re common up here. Teera climbed ahead. She’s a better glider than me and stronger than Pomma. We were looking for her and we heard her scream. We ran towards the scream, and...I found her first.

“It took us a while to pick her up and carry her. She’s so heavy!” Pomma explained. “We were too scared to call for help. They might have found us. Charn yelled and found Lunaa, one of Teera’s teachers. She and two other teachers helped us all get here.”

“I’ll take them to the Temple, Hearba is still there...still...” Valdo hung his head.

“Still sitting in her mourning meditation for Raamo,” Herd finished.

“Great Sorrow...it never ends, does it?” Valdo cast his gaze towards the door.

“If it...if it helps, my friend, you and your family can come to our nid-place and we can teach you a Ceremony of Weeping. Raamo is...was...dear to us as well.”

“That would be -” Valdo started.

And once again, they were interrupted. A Kindar newsringer, carrying a large wooden drum and wearing the orange tabard of his profession over his shuba, approached them all.

“Herd Eld, Holy Child Pomma; D’ol Falla requests your presence at the Vine Palace at once.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those not familiar with the game, the five questers you can pick are Neric, Genaa, Herd, Pomma, and Charn. The game was shockingly advanced for 1984, and the earliest game I can think of that had a choice in the race and gender of your avatar, and have NPCs reacting differently to the player character based on that choice. Now, if you want to blitz through the game? Pomma is your best bet for a speedrun for a variety of reasons. She has a high starting Spirit level, and gets a friendly reception from all but the overly malicious NPCs. The balance is that she had a low strength, meaning you had to give her a lot of elixirs to boost her up, or go for frequent naps and meals to keep her from falling over. Teera would have been a natural choice for the game, but Teera would have also been a game breaker as she would have to have all the same merits as Pomma, but with a higher strength. So how to get her out of the picture? Well, there were a lot of places where you could run into a Saltite or Nekom. Sometimes, you'd get "captured" and sent to their prison houses (nifty rapid transit and tools if you knew how to work it), but some of them would send you back to your nid with a day missing and an ominous "your were found unconscious..."


	3. The Quest Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> D'ol Falla sends the Questers off with a vision and a first lead while Bruha of the Hax-Dok has plans of her own. Ends at the point where the game's story begins.

**Chapter 3  
**   
  


The Vine Palace was truly a marvel of Kindar craft; grund-wood supports and living branches shaped by careful bending of growing limbs and assisted by grunspreke. Thick tendrils of living Vine woven within the living branches and cut Vine hardened into iron-strength forming walls and arches. Rich tapestries of silk, depicting colorful nature scenes or stylized tableaus of Kindar history hung from any surface large enough to display them. Charn was young enough to be fascinated by the color of the tapestries, the tightness of the weave, and the flowing style of Kindar art as compared to the blockier and more angular style of Erdling mosaic. Pomma eagerly explained what each tapestry depicted as they went along, but Herd was far too troubled to listen.

The Palace would be much more lovely if the Vine didn’t symbolize something far different for his people. To Kindar, it had been sacred, to Erdling, it was a curse. The Vine Palace and temple was worship of imprisonment and exile of those who wouldn’t submit to Wissener’s - D’ol Wissen’s - dictates.

He and the children were not alone in the antechamber. Neric and Genaa were also present. Neric with his dark, fast moving eyes and coiled posture, almost like a ground-snake waiting to strike an unsuspecting muus. Genaa, every bit Hiro D’aank’s daughter, sitting properly straight on the bench of hardened tendril, eyes closed.

“I’d say welcome, Friend,” Neric said. “However, I doubt that D’ol Falla would summon us here so urgently if there were fortunate news.”

Genaa opened her eyes. “I heard about the attack on Teera from the messenger who brought you here. How is she?”

“Bandaged. Resting. Given Berries for the pain. She’s in good hands. The Erdling healers on Broad Grund have experience with cut injuries, but usually accidental ones.”

Neric scowled. “They reduced the dose, right? A Kindar child would have more of a tolerance. And support under the nid so her shoulders are elevated –”

“They’ve seen to that, Neric. Thank you. You were a healer before this, right?”

Neric shrugged. “Yes. My talents in it are limited. I suspect it was done so I’d be seeing Berry-addicts like my parents and reminded constantly of my less than honored origins. I would like to see her myself, if you’d permit it.”

“When she is well enough for visitors, I will consider it,” Herd said. Outside of the D’ok family, Neric and Genaa were among the Kindar he knew and trusted well enough to consider friends. He had already been working closely with Genaa’s father and his research when Hiro was exiled Below. He had often talked about the beautiful bond-mate and sharp-witted daughter he lost by Exile. Genaa was every bit as Hiro described; mind and temper as keen and sharp as a cutting wand but tempered by Kindar reserve.

_You are a little too cozy with Kindar..._Gando’s words still bothered him. It did not help that he and Charn were the only Erdlings present and the symbology of the Vine.

Sensing his discomfort, Pomma scooted closer, her hand topping his own. Though she had recovered, she was still small and delicate, even by Kindar standards. _There are some things, Little One, you do not understand. By Neshom , I hope you never will..._

A servant summoned them into D’ol Falla’s chambers. She alone used the title now, though her reasons for doing so were never clear. Still a great beauty, even in her advanced age, she sat cross legged on a pile of silken cushions. She was paler than Herd remembered seeing her last, and thinner, too. These days had been hard on them all. Herd reached out with his limited imaging...pensing...skill and found great relief and support, but also weariness and the creeping dark of ending days.

“I thank you for heeding my summons. I also have been told of Teera’s condition. It seems no one in Green Sky is safe. Neshom’s promise seems to be breaking right before our very eyes. We are in danger of repeating our terrible past.”

Genaa shook her head. “Raamo warned us of this. That’s why he led the procession to destroy that Tool.”

Neric shifted on his heels, looking like he wanted to say something, but quickly shut his mouth and threw up a mind-block.

D’ol Falla was not fooled. “You have something to say, Neric?”

Neric, obviously caught, sagged his shoulders. “I would not put it past Raamo to seek death willingly, to make himself the Rejoyning’s martyr.”

Genaa looked at Neric in shock that he could be so crude. “Neric! Raamo wouldn’t seek that kind of glory and you know it.”

“He’d be too dead to enjoy any glory, Genaa. If he somehow convinced himself that we needed a rallying point other than the Children -”

“How can you say such horrible things?” Pomma said. “He was my brother. My big...” Her eyes grew big and glossy with tears, but none were shed. Herd patted her back. Poor girl. Tears were not a source of shame.

D’ol Falla straightened. “I cannot be certain of this, but I suspect Raamo’s plan did not succeed.”

“He’s alive?” Genaa shook her head in disbelief and stared intently, as though she was trying to pense the truth, though she had lost the ability long ago.

“I cannot know for certain, but I had a vision – someone lost in darkness. Cold and weary. Very weak.”

Herd straightened. He did not know if this was a proper question to ask, but maybe under the circumstances... ”Can you image?”

Herd felt the stares of the Kindar on him and realized a moment too late that Kindar were not as proficient with the sharing of mind-image as Erdlings were. That, and imaging was a child’s skill. He had not been able to send much of anything himself in many years. Maybe a brief sharing during moments of close communion with Kanna, but that was the extent of it.

Of course, Pomma would take the leap of faith. “Teera and I could do it. It’s something you have to think about and not think about.”

“That makes no sense,” Neric said.

Charn seemed to understand. “’Course it does. Think about it and you try too hard.”

The children sat down and held hands like they were starting the child’s game. Erdlings called it Image, Kindar called it Five-Pense, but the concept was the same with one player sending images through mind-touch to the other. The ability faded with age (and Herd was the eldest in the room, other than D’ol Falla), but there was nothing really to lose by this.

All of them sitting cross-legged on the grund-wood floor, arranged in a circle beginning and ending at D’ol Falla, they held hands and tried to clear their minds, just like children at play. The children were, of course, at ease with it. The adults...much less so. Genaa, in particular, shifted on the cushion with discomfort. Neric’s hand tightened around hers slightly.

D’ol Falla broke the tension with a laugh. “Ah, but the young retain the Gifts and wisdom we foolish adults forget.”

Nervous laughter broke out around the room, making all forget their self-consciousness, despite the gravity of the situation. Charn and Pomma grabbed hands and smiled like they were going to share mischief. Neric and Genaa seemed more looking to one another for comfort. Sitting between Pomma and D’ol Falla, Herd was troubled and skeptical. Neric, Genaa, Pomma...they were all Kindar he knew and trusted. D’ol Falla...he respected her position, but the irrational, more Erdling part of him saw _Wissener...Ol-Zhaan...threat_, especially with Gando’s words still troubling him.

As if sensing his conflict, the old woman placed her wizened hand on Herd’s wrist, her face and emotions projecting love and support, but tempered with regret and atonement.

_We are all the children of Neshom...We should all be the Zhaan..._Herd reminded himself, forcing his shoulders to slump and his body to relax.

Just when it seemed the attempt was futile, a gasp spread through the room. First was Pomma, a small whine in her thin, sweet voice, then D’ol Falla in a sharp, rattling gasp. That’s when the reality around him vanished and a cold, wicked darkness crashed over his consciousness.

  
  


_The Procession to discard the Tool of Violence was tense and fearful. Hiro, Kir, and Ruubla led the way, Erdling lamps of metal and coal in Hiro and Kir’s hands and a honeylamp in Ruulba’s. Vine ropes were slung across shoulders. Two young Ny-Zhaan volunteers carried the litter with the Tool s case strapped down by layers of silk and rope to try and prevent any undue shocks that could lead to its accidental destruction, taking the procession with it. Neric brought up the rear, right behind him._

_The Lake was as vast across as it was said to be Bottomless. The precipice above it as high as a grund’s low branch above the forest floor. He could sense the confusion, the fear...and was that eagerness? Anticipation? If so, who was it coming from? The conflicting emotions made it difficult to think. There was one among them – an Erdling with wide face and unruly hair. _

_The urn and its dreadful Tool seemed to be a living thing, whispering dark promises into his mind. Even if it were destroyed, the poison it represented would not die. Nekom still threatened the branchpaths. Saltite still preached separatism and preached that Kindar who supported Rejoyning were traitors to themselves. The fragile Joy that had taken place with the Erdling’s freedom did not last. The people had rallied around Pomma and Teera, but the Children were too young to shoulder the burden. _

_He had the urn in his hands as he walked closer to the edge. Something was wrong. He was tempted to look backwards, to stop his terrible plan. No, he must keep walking. _

_The flat-faced Erdling was not part of the original procession. He pensed deviousness, fear, but there were too many in the Procession to get a clear pense of the newcomer. He sensed it more than saw it – the Wand of Befal pulled from his fur tunic. _

_No. Even if the Tool were destroyed here, it would not end. Only one thing truly would. _

I am sorry. Neric, please understand. All others...forgive me.

_Before the young Nekom man could close the gap, Raamo leaned just a little bit forward, allowing the weight of the urn and the slick wetness of the stone to pitch him forward... _

  
  


“No, Great Sorrow – NO!” Neric’s voice cut through the air, breaking the vision and bringing everyone abruptly back to themselves. He was slumped over, cursing loudly and bitterly. “I was there. I shouted for the ropes. I tried to...That damn fool! I suspected he did this, but to know -”

Genaa rubbed his back with concern. “Neric, it was no fault of yours.”

“I should have anticipated. I should have been the one to take that damned urn.”

Pomma was hugging her knees. “That was him. That was definitely Raamo. When I was really little and he taught me to play Five-Pense, he would let me see Images through his eyes.”

Herd didn’t want to be the one to say it, but he had to. “This is still not proof Raamo is alive.”

Charn pulled himself to a kneeling position. “But if he is? No one’s gone past the Lake. No maps. No idea where he could have washed up.”

Genaa was visibly pale, rubbing her temples in pain. “We have to seek out clues, tools. We will have to prepare in order to go below and see for ourselves.”

“If D’ol Falla has seen these visions,” Herd suggested. “Then perhaps others have as well. I...don’t hold the Gystig beliefs, but I do know we had mystics capable of seeing things with their Spirit that eyes could not.”

Neric scowled. “That was not an experience I care to repeat.”

“Nor I,” Genaa said. “But if Raamo is alive, he needs our help. If he is dead...” She shuddered. “If he is dead, then we should retrieve his body so that we can wrap it in silks and give him a proper farewell.”

“Agreed,” Herd said. “Erdling and Kindar alike weep for him. We should follow this. But where do we start?”

“There is a hermit at the top of Grand Grund,” Genaa suggested. “Not much is known about him.”

D’ol Falla seemed to have a moment of sorrow at the mention of the Hermit, but it quickly passed. “Ah, yes. And perhaps some of you should consult Hearba. She is deep in mourning over at the Temple.”

“I wonder if Vatar still lives,” Herd speculated. “He was of great age, but also great power. He chose to remain below the Root, even as our people chose to go above.”

“Herd,” Genaa said, projecting sympathy. “You don’t have to do this. You should be with Teera.”

“I thank you, but...” He shook his head. “I can do little more for my daughter. And I owe Raamo this. We all do. Let us bring him home.”

“I cannot accompany any of you on this quest. I am...too frail now,” D’ol Falla explained. “But I also have a last piece of advice. The Key to the Forgotten Chamber has been lost. Well-hidden. Seek it out and look within the Chamber. Perhaps among the horrors of the Ancients, there will be something that will assist this quest. Seek the Forgotten Chamber; it belongs to you all now.”

* * *

The Vine Palace has many servants. And while many among those who maintained the elaborate residence were supportive of the former Vine Priestess and her commitment to the Rejoyning, others were more conflicted. One of lamp lighters, setting out the nightly dishes of honey for moonmoths, felt a shiver of dread as he watched the five who had been summoned enter the chamber. Under the guise of baiting the traps, he lingered at the door longer than necessary, listening in carefully. 

He could not fully understand all that had been said, but Kindar were strong of memory and mind. Perhaps D'ol Falla's advanced age and grief over the loss of her apprentice were affecting her. His sister had certainly said similar. She had tried to convince him to come with her to Wissenwald, to start over, to live apart from the flesh-eaters. He held no true malice towards the Erdlings and were glad for their freedom. They deserved to live their lives as they wished...but would they allow the Kindar to do the same? 

Still afflicted by conflict, he could not rest in his nid that night. Plucking a grundleaf from outside his window and chewing a small twig into a stylus, he wrote his sister. 

_I worry for D'ol Falla. She has become ever more frail in these days following Raamo's death. She summoned five of the Rejoyners into her chamber; D'ol Neric and D'ol Genaa first. Then, _ _Holy Child Pomma and the Erdling ambassador, along with an Erdling boy I did not recognize. _

_I have heard of attacks on Kindar and Erdling alike on the branchpaths. D'ol Salaat surely would disapprove of this, right? Ol-Zhaan are those who know of the dark to keep Kindar in light. I do not know if word of the Holy Child Teera's injuries have yet reached D'ol Salaat, and I pray that his followers were not responsible. There have been those claiming to follow his way blashpheming the way of Peace and Joy. _

_Please, sister, I know you are in contact with D'ol Salaat. Please beg him to return. The Kindar need our guides and teachers. If D'ol Falla cannot and D'ol Neric and D'ol Genaa will not, then he is the only one who would be willing and able... _

He tied the message to the leg of a messenger bird kept in its cage and set it free, knowing it would go to his sister. 

* * *

Gando pulled the hood over his head and used the hidden ladder near Star Grund to make his way back to Upper Erda. The city was bustling, even in the evening rain; Erdling were of hardier stock and the ground location did not impede shuba travel.

On the outskirts, among storehouses, was a lapan house serving fresh meat and hot tea. Gando went in and made his way to a small room in the back.

Bruha was waiting. “It has been done?”

“Done.” he said, producing the bloodstained cloth. “No joy in it.”

The Hax-Dok priestess took the cloth, examining it. “Blood for blood.” She spit on it and smiled. Rubbing it in, she cast it into the smoky brazier in front of her, looking for patterns in the smoke. Gando was afraid as she smiled.

“Yes. There will be five who walk on the Vine Priestess’s orders. The Saltite will be hunting them, and so will we. They cannot succeed.”

Her hand moved in a flash and grabbed Gando’s wrist, a small, thin blade hidden in her fur sleeve, no bigger than a needle, pricked Gando’s forearm, adding his blood to the flames. The smoke curled and blackened, forming what looked like a pattern of caverns, perhaps a map. As soon as it formed, it vanished like the ephemeral smoke it was.

“Erdlings have accepted the ‘peace’ of Kindar too long. And not all of the Spirit gifts are made for peace. We have not thinned our blood. The time has come for vengeance. We must find Raamo first. We must make sure his blood is added to the fire.”

“A Kindar boy? They said he was -”

“His Kindar blood, thin as it is, was rich in Spirit. If we find him, sacrifice his blood to our fire, we will have our needed strength. Without him to bring unity, there will be war. Then the Kindar and all blood traitors will die. Only _we _will remain.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am ending this where the game picks up, but I would like to be able to write a follow up novelization of the game if anyone other than me would like to see it,

**Author's Note:**

> First off, thank you, queenbookwench. I've needed an excuse to write this thing since about 1995. Yes, this is going to be riffing on the Commodore 64 game, which introduced me to the series. And yes, said C64 game is canon. Synder gave it the green light on the condition that Windham Classics use it to reverse a certain bad call made in _Until the Celebration._ It's primitive by today's standards, but was shockingly advanced for the time it came out.


End file.
